


I Looked to the Sky - You Longed for the Ground

by LadyBaratheon



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), The 100 (TV)
Genre: M/M, grounder renly, the 100 au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-06
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-08 02:00:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4286367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyBaratheon/pseuds/LadyBaratheon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>97 years ago a nuclear war wiped out life on earth as it had previously been known, some survived in space, but those that were left behind adapted to survive.<br/>Renly had believed the Sky People to be a myth, a story told to children to keep them fascinated in the stars. He had believed that, until the day they fell in their space ships, bearing guns and bombs, and killing the grounders. A war has begun on the ground, a ground which belongs to Renly's people, not to these strangers. Yet when Renly rescues Loras, a boy from the sky, and he in turn rescues Renly, they both begin to see that these savages may not all be as violent and hateful as they seem.<br/>A RenlyxLoras 100 AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, I hope you like this, tell me if anything doesn't make sense and I'll try and change it, have fun I guess??

Renly had never heard the woods this noisy. Normally it was merely the gentle hum of birds or the small snap of twigs – animals making their way through the forests, but now it felt truly alive. Everything had been truly alive, since they arrived.

Renly sat in the trees, melting into the forest, watching them. Paint was smeared across his face, black, greens and brows, darkest around his eyes, the only indicator it was him was the blue of them, almost lost but making their way to the foreground, shining through the layers of camouflage. The Commander had sent him out to lead a few warriors on a mission of ‘vital importance’, to watch, to wait, to understand these new creatures, to know what they truly were. Renly believed it was only an excuse for his brother to rid him of his presence yet again. He hadn’t seen his brother in years since he had been made commander, this new threat bringing the clans together once more, Renly could hardly say he’d missed him. 

But the worst part of being sent here wasn’t knowing his brother’s disinterest in him, but more so that it was tedious work. Silence had to be kept to avoid discovery, yet Renly had begun to yearn for one of Robar’s terrible jokes or Guyard’s awful songs, nothing would interest him more now than the off-key notes that he was so joyed in singing. He could imagine Robert not being overly happy with him neglecting his duty, as he had put to the heads of Clans, this was a matter of survival or extinction, but Renly had never been a fan of his brother’s over dramatization and had learnt to ignore his somewhat overzealous speeches. 

They had been camped just outside their base, the Skaikru’s base as they had been named, for little over 4 days – spending the day light in the trees, on what Robert demanded must be a constant vigil, but was more like an occasional glance and gentle nap. During the nights they resided further in the forest. Their tents were shrouded beneath its dark canopy, a jungle to the untrained. Somehow they had managed to pass the time in a painless agony. Guyard would draw, what he drew was a mystery, he kept his note book closers than his sword. Brienne would be sharpening one weapon or another, demanding that they keep to Robert’s orders until Renly gave her that smile - the one that crinkled his eyes and stretched his face, then she would blush and look away. Robar had become a fan of whittling, he had begun work on a stag, a homage to the two headed deer the Storm Clans of old were said to ride, ones that could make lightening from their stride and thunder from their hooves, that was Renly’s favourite story, but after several more dog like attempts he had returned to something more basic. 

Renly however had never been one for hands on pass times. His advisors had always called him a thinker rather than a fighter. He preferred to watch things, to think things, to imagine things. To make stories rather than objects. Imagining what things that deer had seen, or the seed that that rose had come from, the war this tree had been witness to or the lovers this ground had felt. The Skaikru offered a wealth of new stories, a wealth of new things to learn and discover, all locked behind one heavily armoured iron fence.  
Technology wasn’t the only thing locked behind that fence, he saw many people longing for a look at Renly’s world, trapped inside, he had been one of them – the boy. Renly had believed him imagery at first, just a whisper of gold through the murky grey of steel and iron, a figment born of boredom. But he had seen him again, later than night, and again the next morning. He’d never seen someone so pretty, he looked like an untouched woman from The Storm Clans; the maiden before the ground ruined her. The boys from the Storm Clans had been marred in tattoos and scars, with matted hair and dirt on their faces, but he stood shining, golden curls, untouched by the cruelty of nature, the cruelty of the grounders. 

Renly, much like Guyard, had been given a note pad, a commodity not meant for drawing, but for note taking. Renly had been putting his to the proper purpose, he made plans of the base, a map home, a litany of ‘useful’ things, yet this boy made him want to draw him a thousand times, so he’d never forget that face.

He was watching him that morning, entranced. He’d fallen into the trap of drawing him, sketching the soft curves of his face that he could see from the tree, and the curl of his hair - wishing he could get closer.

‘Renly,’ Brienne whispered, to him breaking the silence, pulling Renly away from the boy. She had perched her bulky frame on the same branch as Renly today, keeping close.

‘Yes,’ he replied, dazed, lingering on the edges of daydreams.

‘Have you seen, something, you’re staring, I was worried that…’ she trailed off.

‘Don’t be worried about me, I’m just a little bored, a little tired,’ he sighed, closing the book, ‘sometimes I wish Robert would ‘trust’ someone else with these vital babysitting missions,’ he answered looking again for the boy over talking to Brienne, she was a lovely woman, a great fighter and valuable friend, but he could never want more than that from her.

‘You don’t think this is important?’ she raised her eyebrows, voice rising slightly. 

‘Look at them Brienne, these aren’t the warriors killing our people, Guyard counted two with weapons yesterday, these are civilians,’ he raised his hand towards them before lowering it in annoyance, ‘civilians we’re babysitting,’ 

‘If it’s not important, why the commander would send his own brother,’ she was trying to see the light in Robert, Renly admired her for that.

‘Robert believes you’re not a real man until you’ve fought in war, killed some man with your own hands, smashed his head in or pulled out his heart in some barbaric fashion, this is what he thinks I’m useful for, and I appreciate his decisions, I’d much rather that than disobey them, but it doesn’t mean I have to be happy with them,’ he finished with a smile and laugh, but neither reached his eyes. 

Renly was ready to return to his fantasy, to return to his boy, but this time it was not Brienne that interrupted him, but the pounding of feet, the yelling and crying of people.  
Something else took over, the primal instinct that kept his people alive, pulling his limbs into the branches, hiding in the shadows. Brienne did the same next to him. More people was not good, if they were to be caught, they would probably die. 

He snapped his eyes to Robar and Guyard, before signalling down, they looked below. Warriors sped past, guns held on their shoulders, other’s held people wounded and bleeding, crying out for help. The blue uniforms worn by some were singed, burns running along their skin, faces holding back pain. A battle had happened, and it seemed that his people had won.

But that didn’t matter now, what mattered was as they got closer, that they didn’t see them, didn’t hear them. The party of Skaikru was growing closer to their camp, hidden it  
may be, but not invisible. 

Guyard looked desperate, eyes wide and eyebrows raised in panic. Robar’s were closed, trying to block out the movement below. Renly prayed to the gods. Brienne’s hand grasped for his arm, sword poised in the other.

The Skaikru had almost made it passed, they had almost gone unseen. Before one tripped, landing on his face, before rolling in the mud onto his back. He looked familiar, tight curly hair and a feminine face, although a little scruff had begun to grow on his chin, other than that he was much like the boy Renly had been enthralled by but older, like a jump in time. 

He laughed it off the stumble, uninjured both the fall and the previous battle.

‘Willas you are such a klutz, remind me how you made guard duty again,’ another boy walked towards him, grabbing his arm.

‘The same way you did Garlan, the right father,’ he laughed, looking to the trees as he was pulled of the floor, his eyes widening at what he saw.

He may have laughed off the fall, laughed off the battle, but one thing he could not laugh off was the eyes that peered at him from above, the weapons poised at his people. 

‘You two, stop laughing, this is serious business, Willas on your feet now!’

‘Sir,’ he pointed desperately. Renly held his breath, still, silent, but out of fear rather than bravery. 

Willas panic was getting the attention of others, wondering what he was shouting about, there was nothing in those trees their puzzled faces said, but if they looked harder, longer, they would see. 

Brienne grabbed him tighter, shifting her weight, ready to leap – Renly readied himself, waiting for the right moment, he caught Robar’s eye, stopping him with a hand gesture, but it was Robar he could not stop. 

Shakily he had loaded an arrow, and shakily he let it loose. It flew through the air, embedding itself in the boy’s leg, nerves had played on his usual accuracy. They boy let out a cry of pain, blood running down his leg, then his people saw them, saw Guyard. There was a flurry of movement, the boy pointing to the trees while simultaneously attempting to pull the arrow from his leg, the men and women around him scouring the trees for the arrow’s owner, other’s pulling out guns, loading them, aiming them. 

It was time.

Renly grabbed Brienne, knocking the weapons and notebook resting on the branch. He pulled her up, climbing the tree, getting higher into the canopy, further into the darkness of the leaves. He hoped Robar and Guyard followed his lead. Silently he began moving through the trees, jumping from branch to branch, hearing the screams below the I saw one there, and the hunt them, find them, kill them, blocking it out he dared a look back, Brienne was close behind, Guyard was flagging slighting, Robar was making too much noise, but not enough for the Skaikru to hear over their own orders. 

He didn’t want to slow down, didn’t want to stop running, but the burn in his limbs and shortness of breath forced him too. 

The Skaikru were just echoes in the distance now, to untrained and unaccustomed to the ground. Not ready for the chase. Renly leant back against the tree, gasping for breath, his heart pounding in his ears. Robar landed not far from him, but Guyard missed the next branch, tumbling to the ground. Renly laughed, pushing himself of the branch and landing more gracefully on the forest floor.

‘Be thankful you didn’t miss about a minute ago,’ Renly laughed, pulling Guyard to his feet.

‘You’re a git Renly,’ he laughed, doubled over, breathing heavily.

‘And you are a lucky man,’ he pulled him for a hug, glad to have his men close and unharmed.

‘With all due respect this is no laughing matter, we could have died back there because of him,’ Brienne pointed an accusing finger, eyebrows low and sharp, drawn together and angry. 

Guyard straightened up, scolded by Brienne’s harsh words. He opened his mouth to defend himself, but Renly shushed him.

‘But we didn’t,’ it came out sterner than he’d intended. Brienne’s eyes widened, unused to Renly raising his voice, he tried to rectify it, ‘we could have died, but we didn’t,’ he  
soften his voice, chuckling behind his words, ‘we lost a few weapons, but we still have the plans, the layouts, the numbers, we can get back to camp and give Robert what he wanted, he doesn’t even need to know we were seen,’ Renly smiled that smile and watched the colour rise on Brienne’s face, ‘we’ve lost nothing and we’re alive,’  
Brienne turned her head away from Renly, still annoyed.

‘Let's go then, while we still can,' she paused, 'they're bound to come after us,' she began walking away, still not looking at Renly. 

Renly reached into his pocket, searching for his notebook. He knew the rough layout of these forests, enough to get around while watching the Skaikru but not enough to navigate the warriors the entire way home. He hadn't grown up here, none of them had, the storm lands across the eastern coast was their home, the new arrivals forcing them to new lands.

He reached further into his jacket pocket, feeling nothing, it was empty. He tried his trouser pocket. The same. Panicked, he patted himself down, finding nothing.  
'Renly what is it?' Robar asked, his eyebrows drawn together in confusion.

'It's... it's...' he began, frustration taking control of his thoughts, 'the notebook, I can't find the notebook,' exasperation was drawn on his face, as he looked at his friends, his eyes pleading, not with them but with the gods. He hoped he hadn't done what he feared, hadn't dropped that damn book, hadn't left it in the hands of those monsters. If he had, they would surely find them, find his people. Then it would all be over. 

' We have to go back for it, we have to, we can't leave without it,' he ran his fingers through his hair, long and black, matting itself into dreadlocks for the oncoming winter, ' fuck!' he cried.

'You can't be serious,' Brienne questioned, 'if we go back, they'll kill us!'

'No, I don't think they'd kill us,' Guyard interjected, 'I think they'd torture us, then kill us,'

'This is not the time for jokes Guyard!' Brienne shouted at him, bitterness evident on the edges of her voice.

'Shut up the pair of you,' Robar had had enough, forcing them away from an argument 'Renly's right, they find that, we die, our people die, we can't let them do that,' he steadied himself, looking at Renly, 'what do you suggest we do?'

'We wait until it gets dark, they could barely spot us in the light, we'll be invisible in the night,' 

'Yes but Renly, how are we to see in the dark, how are we going to find a notebook in this big of a forest?' Brienne asked, her voice quiet.

'We'll find it somehow, we have to,' he replied boldly, like a leader, like his brother. 

***

Darkness takes it's time to come when you're waiting for it to fall. That was something Renly learnt, along with the importance of keeping track of notepads, and the difficulty to detect them in the dark.

They were whispering in hushed voices, scanning the forest floor near the Skaikru's camp in almost total darkness. The moonlight would have been some help, had they thick canopy of trees not bared its entrance. Instead the used the thin veil of light coming from the nearby campfires, too scared to light their own torches and risk been seen again; the Skaikru would be on high alert tonight Renly surmised.

'This is hopeless Renly, we'll never find it,' Guyard whispered, pulling himself off the floor he had been searching, leaning again a tree and letting out a disgruntled sigh. 'What if they've already found it? We could be searching for hours and find nothing,'

Renly knew Guyard was right, knew it would be easier to give up, that it would be sensible to give up, but he couldn't. He looked through the trees, towards the camp, tears threatening to sting at the edges of his eyes. Not tears of sadness, tears of annoyance, at himself, his own stupidity and the goddamn notebook. He couldn't leave knowing they had that book, not only would it be a danger to his people, but it would be an embarrassment. Robert would never trust him again.

'We could leave, we could go back, tell the Commander that it was lost on the way,' Guyard suggested.

'Do you really think that Robert would believe that,' he laughed, 'do you really think he'd care anyway, he wants those plans, wants those numbers, and what Robert wants...' Renly trailed off, thinking, attempting to form a solution. Robert had wanted an army, a kingdom, a war. What Robert wants, Robert gets ¬¬¬¬- he thought to himself.

'We need to find a way into that camp, we need to get that notebook!' 

'Renly we don't even know whether they have it,' Brienne interjected, she had been quiet up until now, fulfilling her lords wishes, however much she disagreed with them, 'you go in there, you'll get yourself killed, provided you find away in of course,'

'You go in there, you'll get us all killed,' Guyard motioned to the camp. The fortifications could be seen roughly through the trees - high guard towers with loaded guns, a thick barbed wire fence, men and women patrolling the perimeter - it seemed impenetrable. 'You'd get us killed for a notepad you don't even know they have, it's a stupid idea,' Guyard turned away from Renly, disgruntled.

Renly looked to the floor, away from his men. They must think him a fool, an idiot, a desperate idiot.

'It is a stupid idea, but we're stupid enough to follow this fool,' Robar patted him on the back, 'Renly's right, however much we might dislike it, we have to go in, at least see whether they have that notepad, we can't let them get their hands on it,' Renly smiled a weak smile and Robar, glad for support. ' Plus, if we could find a way in, how much do you think the commander would reward us,' Guyard's ears pricked up at the thought of reward and praise, 'we wouldn’t need an army anymore, we would only need a few men,' 

Renly liked Robar's idea, but then again, Robar had always been good at getting things across, convicing even Renly at times. Renly could sway the masses to agree to the greatness of flawed plans, he had that kind of charisma, but it was with his close friends, those who really knew him, which the other side of Renly shone through to. They saw a troubled, hurt boy, abandoned by a brother who wanted to run a kingdom rather than raise his sibling, someone who needed help now and again.

***

Agreed on finding a way in, they slipped into the darkness, shadows in the forest, one with the ground. Their dark clothes, thick hair and painted faces made them look like living trees, living trees that moved with the silence of shadows. 

The plan was a rough one, find a way in. What that entailed was shaky, whether they would find a gap in the fencing or hack one themselves was left open. If they would kill or try to avoid anyone even knowing they were there was left unanswered. Instead they opted for assumption, Renly assumed they would follow his lead and they assumed Renly would lead them home alive, yet he was only certain of one of those hopes coming true.

The guard towers were high, looming over them as they snuck through their blind spots. Renly could almost hear his own heart in his chest, feel his breath catch at the sound of voices and footsteps. He tried to imagine what he would do were he forced to kill one, bury his axe in their skull or smash their ribcage with his hammer. They were people, the little voice in the back of his head told him, how could even consider killing them as easily as one crushes a bug, yet his tribesmen had also been people, his tribesmen who they had slaughtered, burnt alive and left for dead. 

'There, that looks like where they're all coming from, I bet if they have the notepad it'll be in there,' Robar whispered next to Renly, pointing to a large box-like building in the centre of the camp, sheets of metal layered upon each other. It was well lit, but during the day it was more populated, they had seen so from their tree top vantage. Now only a few lingered outside it, guards mainly, killers. Others were treating the injured, sleeping, training. Most of the guards were on the perimeter. They didn't seem to realise how little effort it took the grounders to get this close, how they were trained and experienced in the art of camouflage and war since they could hold a stick. They were bred for this.  
Renly's group was hunched on the outskirts of the fencing, huddle together. Close. He could feel the heat coming of Brienne and Guyard, the tension radiating off them. Renly looked, there were no guards, this was the time to go.

He motioned them forwards, and they darted quickly towards the fence.

'Let's brake it,' Renly said, breaking silence. 

Brienne pulled out a weapon, two sharp blades held tightly together - the perfect fence cutter. She held them over the wire, a small twang was the only noise that was heard, loud to them, but it should have been have barely audible to anyone else, it would have been if not for the boy hidden in the shadows just outside of vision. 

A small gasp came from behind the fence, Renly hadn't seen him, had overlooked him in his panicked state. Renly's eyes widened in fear, as did the boys golden ones. In his further state of shock it took a few moments for Renly to realise who he was staring at; the boy from before, that beautiful beautiful boy. 

He knew that he was staring at him in fear, his wide eyes and drawn together eyebrows gave that away, yet Renly wished he wasn't. Wished he could see the carefree boy from earlier, who had held sunlight in his curls instead of the dull lamp light that now drowned him. 

Renly imagined himself to be a state, a dark hulking man, with face paint obscuring his face, his features, tattoos marring everywhere else, and the dreadlocks and braids he had  
for hair obscuring his face. He would be scared of himself.

Renly looked at him and his breath caught in his lungs, he wanted to be tender, compassionate, to tell the boy not to worry, but he was worried what he may do. Instead Renly put a finger to his own lips, telling him to be quiet. The boy flinched, Brienne reached for her axe, the boys eyes darted to it, following her hand.

‘We aren’t going to hurt you,’ the boy didn't seem to relax at the words, 'if you stay quiet’ he whispered in the little English he knew, stuttering the words out, trying to keep calm.  
He wished what he said could be true, but his clan would most likely maim if not kill the boy given the chance. 

‘Who are you? What are you?’ his voice was frantic, but quiet, 'why shouldn't I call the guards?' He hadn’t run, yet the way he braced himself against the fence, feet ready, hands poised to push himself off told Renly he was beginning to regret that decision. His hands were jittery. Anxious.

'You call them, we kill you,' Robar stated, smirking at the boy's flinch. His English was still basic, lacking finesse, but it got to the point.

Renly paused, almost ready to reply, to calm the boy and win him over; then the fog horn cut him off. The loud shriek echoed through the forest, reverberating through the trees, followed by the fear of what was the come. The fog had a way of working through the trees, killing everything living. It was a curse, years of radiation soaked rains and storms.  
Acid fog some called it, others merely named it death, judgment, the god's wrath. He wondered how many would have died to it already this evening. 

Renly’s eyes snapped to Robar, who looked poised to blow his own and carry on the signal, if they hadn’t been so close to the Skaikru. Renly shook his head, and he put the horn back down. Guyard and Robar began to make a move, fear evident as they worried they would not make it back in time, not find shelter. 

'What is that? What's going on? Is this an attack?' the boy screamed after Renly as he made his way into the woods. He was grasping the fence, grasping for answers. 

This was a solution, the fog. Let that wipe them out, Robert wouldn't be happy, but at least they would be gone; they wouldn't need him to learn about the fuck up over the notebook either.

But Renly couldn't do it.

Couldn't leave them to die.

Couldn't leave him.

He turned back, much to Guyard and Brienne's surprise. 'Renly,' the hissed.

He stalked towards the boy. Placing his hand over his when he reached the fence, almost intimately. 

'Run,' he said, 'please run, find you people, tell them to run, get inside,' he held the boys hand. The heat of it felt good in his palm. He didn't know why, but he felt like he should keep holding on - he wanted to protect him, from the fog, from the grounders, from the world. To keep him as the boy with sunlight in his hair, not some savage.  
He watched the boy’s face screw up, looking for lies. But the openness of Renly's, the clear worry, and panic in his jittering feet told him there were none. He pulled away from the fence, from Renly.

'Thank you,' he said, before darting away.

Renly ran into the forest, where Brienne and the others were waiting for him. They would find shelter, but he couldn't help but worry about the boy. That would keep him up tonight, not the fog.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long - I know I suck  
> I've already written the next few so they so be updated more regularly :)  
> I hope you like it :))

'YOU DID WHAT!' Robert's voice boomed through the tent, most likely audible from outside as well, just adding to Renly's humiliation. ‘I trust you with one thing Renly, one tiny notebook, and you can't even keep track of that, what is wrong with you,' Robert turned his back on his brother, returning to his throne. 'Get out of my sight,' he called, not even deigning to look at Renly. 

Renly wanted to say something, some witty retort to show he didn't care, but he could feel himself shamefully lowering his head as he shuffled out of the tent. 

His feet scuffed the ground as he walked towards his own tent, a large pavilion, no match to Robert's, but it looked far grander. Composed of intricately dyed cloth with the great feats of the ancient Storm Lords painted along the side – Orys defeating Argilac, Bowen commanding his army of stags, his own father Steffon the Drowned battling the sea gods, Robert slaying the last dragon. He would never live up to them, he wasn't born for this, Robert was, but he had to go and win a kingdom, had to make Renly the next Storm Lord. It seemed like Robert had had to do many things, and none of them had ever seemed to help Renly.

He entered the tent, his men rose. They had been seated around the long table that stood in the centre. It now held the remnants of what Renly could only assume to be some form of feast, laid out for his return, eaten while he received his bollocking from Robert. While his men may have devoured most of the food, he did note the full plate at the head of the table, reserved for him. It held his favourite food, fresh peaches. They were hard to find in the Storm Lands, but here, further south, they grew in abundance.

'Don't do that,' he said, motioning for them to lower themselves. His tent was only open to his closest fighting companions when he was not around; it was strange to see them treat him as a lord rather than a friend, 'I understand we're in more prestigious company, but please don't fool yourselves into thinking you’re more civilised,' he was talking about Stannis’s influence on his men, he had a knack for enforcing the 'old ways' the old traditions. Renly had been thankful when he'd left to follow god and find the city of light far across the eastern wasteland, he'd never thought he would return, especially not for one of Robert's stupid wars. 

'Eh, we've got to prove we're nobler than these northern brutes, now they're proper savages,' Guyard scoffed, the rest of his men laughed.

'Nah, it's these forest folk, they think they're all high and mighty because they're under direct control of the commander, fuck that,' Robar retorted.

'Well he was chosen by the ancient spirits Robar, we can't forget that,' he said with a mock serious tone, but the small sniggers and smile breaking on his lips gave the game away as he tried not to burst out in laughter as he spoke.

'Of course Guyard, we could never forget those ancient spirits of drink and feasts,' the two couldn't hold it back anymore, struggling to breathe through their gasps of laughter.

'The pair of you should think twice before speaking ill of the commander in the presence of his own brother,' Brienne piped up from the corner, looking up from the axe she was sharpening. In truth Renly had not seen her upon entering the tent, she usually sat alone, staying quiet, but was further back than usual. 

'I couldn't say I disagree with them Brienne, Robert is the least likely candidate for a commander that I can see, he wasn't chosen by any spirits, he was just lucky enough to have a hammer stronger than the last ones rib cage,' Renly chuckled to himself, it felt good to let off steam, to forget the grandeur and power his brother truly had, to mock him like a sibling should.

The others laughed, but the tent went quiet quickly after he spoke.

'Are you okay Renly? We heard about…' Parmen asked from one end of the table, 'well I supposed we actually heard the whole thing with you and Robert, he can be quite loud,'   
'Yes, I'm fine,' he sighed, before taking his place at the table. The seat was comfortable after several days in a tree and a few more on horseback, 'what's to be expected from Robert when you fuck up that badly,' 

'He was unfair on you Renly, how were we to know there was an entire army on their way back,' Guyard rose to his defence.

'There wasn't quite an army Guyard,' Robar rebuffed. Guyard glared at him, daring him to say anything more 'but if that makes you feel better about accidentally shooting that poor lad then by all means it was an army,' many of the others laughed.

'That poor lad! He was the enemy,' Guyard started, but Renly tuned it out, he didn't have time for their petty squabbles today.

'Are you sure you're okay Renly?' It was Brienne, she had made her way next to him, leaning in. He just grunted at her, trying to shake off his feelings.

'I heard Robert's planning to ask the Sand Tribes for help,' that was the first Renly had heard of it, but he supposed he wasn't exactly Robert's favourite at the moment, 'apparently they'll want to get involved, but I don't trust that wasteland prince, or his snake of a brother,'

'I don't think Robert particularly trusts me to be sent out on a mission of that importance at the moment, not when I can't even handle a simple notepad,' he turned away from her slightly, staring at the table, letting his eyes go out of focus.

'That's probably a good thing, I don't think you'd survive the wasteland personally, you never have been one for heat,' she laughed, he knew he must of looked upset when Brienne was trying to make a joke. He wanted to laugh, to make her feel better, but he couldn't, nor could he stop thinking about Robert's words, what was wrong with him? He could never do anything right, not for Robert.

'He may be angry now, but Renly, he's still your brother, you either need to wait for him to forget, or do something to make him trust you again,' she whispered for patting him on the shoulder and taking her leave. He watched he stalk out into the dark opening of the tent, not sharing in the conversation the other men were having. 

He thought over Brienne’s words.

Wait for him to forget.

Or do something to make him trust you again.

Renly pushed himself from the table, his chair clattering to the floor. The conversation across from him stopped – eyes peering at him curiously. 

He saw Robar open his mouth to ask what was wrong, but Renly had already started to make his way out of the tent before he could form a question.

He knew what he was going to do, what he needed to do. Robert would trust him again, even if he had to make him trust him.

 

***

It was only several hours after the event that Renly realised he hadn’t properly thought out his plan before leaving. He’d saddled his horse and ridden towards the Skaikru’s camp, towards the notebook. It had seemed like a good idea, but after riding until morning, he realised what little provisions he had brought, that he was tired and wanted nothing more than his bed, but shame in returning empty handed like a small child throwing a tantrum had prevented him from heading back. 

Now, a further day later, the search for food was all that kept him going. His head had cleared, he was still angry at Robert, the outburst and subsequent humiliation had been uncalled for, but he understood his anger now, and Robert had never been one to contain his anger. Renly may be his brother, but that was more by blood than any fraternal love.

Renly was meandering through the forest, thinking of returning, not entirely sure how deep he was - or where he was. Yet the quiet felt good. The lack of responsibility was refreshing. He could almost forget the oncoming war and the death that would come with it. He allowed his mind to drift, to dream.

It didn’t surprise him when his mind fell on the boy he had seen at the base, the one he had saved. Renly supposed the boy owed him something now and chuckled at the thought. He wondered what would happen if he saw him again. Gods, he had been so beautiful, Renly regretted losing his notepad even more now, that picture would have been lovely if only just to look at. 

He would have continued to daydream, had his stomach not rumbled, calling him from his dream in the pursuit of food. 

The only weapon that Renly had brought with him was a hammer, it already being attached to his saddle before he’d run away. It was large and bulky; not a weapon for hunting. And even if Renly could manage to catch up with his prey - which was highly unlikely as stealth was not his strong point - his broadness preventing a swift footed approach - he didn’t particularly fancy smashing in the head of some small woodland creature. It wasn’t tasteful. It was cruel.

He instead turned himself to a hunt for berries instead of bunnies. Although lacking much of his bearing within the forest, he knew these types of trees, knew the plants that grew here. He would need to be careful in what he picked however, some of these berries were dangerous, and others caused hallucinations. Fun to begin with. But eventually vivid and disturbing. 

He let his horse wander gently, hungry but not in a hurry. 

Not until he heard voices.

Well, just one voice. 

He tried to pinpoint it, what it was saying, where it was coming from.

‘Go and find food Loras, go and get berries Loras, do this do that,’ it was coming from his left further into the trees, accompanied by the snapping of twigs underfoot. Renly jumped from his horse, traveling quieter on foot.

‘I’m a guard now for god’s sake!’ it sounded as though someone was angry, angry enough to talk to themselves. ‘Still a goddamn messenger boy though aren’t you Loras. Supposed to be on patrol, but here you are, finding food.’ The voice let out a disgruntled sigh, before traipsing closer to Renly. 

Renly panicked, he hadn’t realised how close he had come to them. He wanted to run, but he heard Robert’s voice in his head, you’re not a real man until you’ve killed something, someone. He hastily pulled the hammer from his horse’s saddle, struggling to unloop the buckle, to unhook the strap, his large hands fumbled on the fastenings. Why was it so damn difficult! 

He had almost managed to pull it free when he heard a sharp intake of breath from behind him. For Gods sake! 

He turned to face the foreigner, hammer in hand, paint of his face, he towered over the boy, a dark vision of death is what he hoped he looked like – inheriting the same features as Robert, if not the same ethics, helped his image.

He almost lost his intimating façade when he realised who he was staring at, him.

The boy’s face flicked with fear, wide eyes, like a deer struck with an arrow. His gun was poised, pointed at Renly. But then recognition as he squinted his eyes, trying to place Renly.

‘I – I know you,’ the boy said, it was partly a question, partly a plea, partly a slip of the tongue as adrenaline ran through him.

It was definitely him, the boy. He looked different, an ill-fitting uniform swamped him, and the gun is his arms made him seem older, more responsible.

Renly was silent.

‘You’re the grounder from the fence,’ he seemed unsure of what to do, ‘the one who shot my brother,’ the sudden reoccurrence of the memory caused him to lift his gun, anger taking over from gratefulness. ‘Why shouldn’t I shoot you like I shot him?’ he spat at Renly. 

Renly dropped his hammer, it made a thud as it hit the forest floor. 

‘I won't hurt you,’ Renly said, scared by the gun is his face, he’d heard stories, rumours about what they could do, and it was more than a hammer. 

‘Who are you?’ he asked, stepping closer at Renly’s surrender, pushing the gun closer to him. 

Renly surveyed him. The frighten boy in front of him. He had a bag filled with berries hanging from his right shoulder.

‘You shouldn't eat those,’ Renly pointed to the bag, causing the boy to momentarily drop his guard, ‘they're,’ he struggled to find the right word, ‘they're bad. They do things to your head, bad things,’

‘That’s not what is asked you! You’re the man from the fence, why did you shoot Willas and then save us all?’ 

‘I did not shoot him,’ Renly’s English was poor, he wished he could say more, but it seemed easier to stay silent than explain himself. 

‘Then who did?’ he waited for Renly’s reply, but he stayed silent. Then he reached into the waistband of his trousers, and pulled out a notepad, Renly’s notepad. ‘Is this yours? Why have you been drawing me? What do these drawings mean?’ Renly’s eyes widened, he hadn’t though he would see that notepad again. 

‘Where did you find that?’ Renly wanted to reach out for it

‘Outside camp Lannister, it was by a tree,’ he seemed scared whenever Renly spoke, as if he was about to pull some kind of trick. 

‘Did you not want to give it your commander?’ Renly was thinking out loud, the gun in his face didn’t faze him as much as it had before. This boy had questions, but the lowering of his gun as they continued to talk told him he wasn’t going to shoot.

‘I thought about it,’ 

Renly chuckled causing the gun to be raised once more.

‘But you didn’t do it,’

‘Why have you been drawing me? Why did you save me?’ his voice was getting louder, angry at the things he didn't understand, ‘Why did you tell me I shouldn’t eat these berries?’ he asked, pulling the bag of his shoulder and throwing it to the ground, ‘the Chancellor told us you were savages, that you didn’t care about anything but killing, why do you keep saving me?’

‘Because I don’t like killing,’ Renly’s answer felt surprisingly honest. Surprisingly true. Not just to the boy but to himself; it amazed him further that he could say it to a stranger. 

The boys brows furrowed, a moment of indecision. 

‘Loras! Who are you talking to?’ more people were approaching from the forest, the rest of the guard patrol.

They continue closing in until they stumbled upon Renly and Loras. They were quicker on the draw than Loras, but not than Renly. As one took aim and fired, Renly ducked, the bullet missing; he knocked the gun from Loras’ hands as he shot a rogue bullet into the air. Renly’s horse scared as shots fired, going in the opposite direction, the reins slipping out of Renly’s reach. He chose to run. He was slower than most, but he was more used to the forest floor than the Skaikru. 

He felt an acrid pain seep into his lungs as he kept up his pace. They were still chasing him, outnumbering him they grew cocky. 

He thought he could escape, that he would make it, when he ran into something, someone. He gulped in air, before taking the time to recognise who it was, if he was going to die, he wasn't going to do it wheezing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it - and I hope it wasn't to dumb!  
>  I've the next one written and will upload it the same time next week :)  
> Also feedback is appreciated :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you like!

Renly thought he could escape, that he would make it, when he ran into something, someone. He gulped in air, before taking the time to recognise who it was, if he was going to die, he wasn’t going to do it wheezing. 

He looked into the eyes of the obstacle in his path, expecting one of them, expecting death.   
He had never been more relieved than when he looked up and saw Guyard’s stupid face, with his stupid grin looking down at him. 

‘Renly, we’ve been looking for you, where the bloody hell have you been for the past 3 days?!’ he didn’t sound angry, relived more than anything.

He could see that Guyard was going to carry on talking, he tried to tell him that he was being chased, yet he was doubled over gasping for air in an attempt get his breath back and the hand flailing he was able to provide as communication was far too subtle for Guyard. ‘We we’re so worried about you….’ He continued before Brienne cut him off, noticing something was wrong.

‘Renly?’ she looked at him, eyes brows drawn in concern as she pushed in front of Guyard.   
‘Why were you running?’ 

‘Them,’ he managed to force out of his lungs, composing himself ‘they were chasing me,’ his breathing was still heavy but more manageable as he began to stand at full height. 

The group, his men, looked around, surveying their surrounding like they’d been taught to since childhood. Listening for sounds, searching for clues.

As silence fell among them, the snapping of twigs became apparent, the rustle of leaves as the untrained Skaikru made their way through the forest. 

‘We should leave, we could still get away’ Brienne said in a hushed whisper.

‘What are you talking about,’ Guyard snapped at her, ‘this is our chance, Renly’s chance to prove himself to the commander,’ he took a pause, smiling, ‘we kill them, Robert will forgive you of anything, probably trust you even more if we take one captive,’ 

Renly wanted to think, but time was running out – footsteps growing closer and closer.

He could return a spoilt child who had to be rescued.

Or he could return a hero, a man.

‘I lost my hammer, have you got spare weapons,’ he said, straight faced, determined.

His throat was dry at the thought of what he was about to do, kill something, but he pushed those thoughts back – replacing them with new ones. They’ve killed plenty of us Renly, that boy you saved was willing to shoot you in the head not 20 minutes ago, they’re savages. 

‘Emmon,’ Guyard called. Emmon looked at Renly, before speechlessly pulling a spare hammer off his belt, handing it to Renly. 

‘My father said that you Storm Lords always did look courageous with a hammer in hand,’ Emmon said.

‘And now you look just like Robert used to, he’ll be proud Renly, he’ll see himself in you, he’ll trust you again,’ Guyard seemed hopeful, perhaps banking on some the prestige Renly would receive falling on to him as well. 

He’d hoped he’d have a sword, a bow, something sharp at least – not a hammer, not Robert’s weapon. 

He fought the urge to say he wasn’t Robert, to back out and run for his life – then reminded himself - he wasn’t coward, he was a man.

‘Let’s do this,’ he said, forcing a smile onto his face before turning his back on his men and heading towards them. 

***

Loras’ legs grew tired as he continued to run. He hadn’t wanted to get the man killed – just find out what he’d wanted from Loras. Why he’d been so intent on saving him.

Then anger had taken over, he hated it when that happened, not being in control. The doctors had said that Willas might lose his leg to infection, they didn’t have the medical supplies to deal with it on the ground – he didn’t want to lose his brother, he didn’t think he could face it.

Then he’d been assigned to guard patrol, taking over Willas’ duty – they needed all the help they could get. It had all happened so suddenly. 

Now he was running through the forest chasing a man that was long gone if the rumours of how they’d disappeared into the woods after shooting Willas was anything to go by. But the guards carried on running, intent on chasing him down. 

He was sure they’d lost him, until he heard voices – it wasn’t the same as the man who’d saved him, but familiar anyway.

‘Em wich in nodotaim,’ it said, Loras couldn’t understand what he said, but as he crept closer, he could see the faint outline of bodies, more than one more than two, there was a whole patrol of them. 

Had his saviour lured him into a trap?

Loras stepped back, he couldn’t let the guards walk into that, he may be new to them, they may treated as the runt of the litter, but he wasn’t going to let them die to the hands of those savages, those creatures who had shot Willas.

‘There’s more of them,’ he called to Jaime, keeping his voice quiet.

‘How many Loras?’ he replied, looking happy, a smug grin on his face.

‘About 7’ 

‘About 7?’ he laughed, ‘what you reckon boys, think we can take them?’ he turned to the rest of the patrol, they were hulking mountains of men.

‘If they fought the way they fought on the bridge, they’ll be no worry,’ Loras didn’t know this one’s name, he had been from another station on the arc – a rougher station by the looks of things. He was a large man, tall and broad shouldered; he didn’t speak much. He only knew him by what the rest of the guard patrol had called him - The Mountain – he could see how he’d earnt the name. 

The others made small murmurs of agreement.

‘Let’s go,’ Jaime proclaimed. 

They split off, small groups in opposite directions, attempting to surround the grounders, to box them in. 

The plan may have worked, if the grounders had not had the same idea. He heard cries come from the trees, not battle cries, cries of death and pain followed by gunfire and more screams, but the thick woods obscured his vision; he didn’t know whether they were winning or losing. 

Loras felt alone, he felt scared. Terrified he ducked behind a tree, holding tightly on to his gun with one hand, gripping his knife with the other. 

I can do this he thought, get up Loras, you can fight, and you can do this. He started to pull himself from the ground, when another of the patrol approached him, searching for grounders.

This one scared him no more than the test. Meryn Trant. He was an idiot, but an idiot with a big mouth and an even larger temper. 

‘Are you scared little flower, too scared to fight, I knew you were too young when they put you on this patrol,’ he laughed at him. 

‘I’m not too scared, I fight just as well as you, Trant!’ he spat back, but only provoked more laughter.

‘Little Prince, your daddy may be a council member, but here on the ground we all know who rules, and he doesn’t mean shit, you should run back to the camp, you’ll be much safer there, less people want to kill you,’ he grinned, large and toothy, as he pushed past Loras knocking his shoulder.

Loras was about to retort, yell some crude words, maybe throw a punch, but he saw Trant raise his gun and aim behind him. 

Loras turned just in time to see one, a grounder, running towards them. It wasn’t the man from before, they looked similar but this one lacked those blue eyes, he had lighter hair, was smaller in stature and thinner in frame - was less intimidating in his appearance, but more threatening in his stance. 

Trant took his shot, missing slighting, hitting the shoulder rather than the head, but it was enough to put the grounder to the floor, his crumpled body still moving as he struggled to regain momentum. 

Loras took a breath, ready to run from him before he got back up. Trant had a different plan, stalking towards the body, ready to kill. That was when the shadows seemed to move, a figure appearing from the undergrowth, smashing the Trant’s legs. Loras would have laughed, had he not been terrified. 

Loras watched as they buckled beneath him, listened to the loud groan he made as he too hit the floor. 

Fight or flight, that’s what they called it. Loras had no choice, he could try and run, but trip or get lost in the forest, or he could try and fight the unknown assailant.

He regained his grip on his gun, ready to face the grounder when he would eventually spot Loras – but he had his breath stolen from him. A hand placed over his mouth, stopping his screams, he elbowed his assailant, but a second hand grabbed his waist and pulled him backwards. He stood flush against someone in the darkness between trees.

He struggled, kicking his legs, and smashing his elbows into his the man, but there was so much muscle in him - it felt more like he was hitting a brick wall. 

‘Shhh’ the voice said, a whisper of breath ghosting over Loras’ ear, making him shudder ‘don’t scream,’ the hand was slowly removed from his face as Loras turned to face his attacker.   
It was him. Again. 

***

Renly regretted his decision to stay and fight the moment he heard screams and gunfire from between the trees. 

He knew woodland terrain, but not this woodland terrain. 

He had made a silent pact to himself that he would not kill anyone, he would let his men take the final blow, the killing shot. That was at least some semblance of his conscience could remain clean. 

He stalked through the woods, following noises – voices and footsteps – flashes of colour that could be people. Guyard stood by him, as did Emmon for some unknown reason - the others had taken flight further into the forest, seeking other Skaikru. 

‘There’s some,’ Guyard pointed through the trees, ‘two I count,’

Renly squinted, seeing who he was talking about, a small boy, and a large beast of a man.

‘When you’re ready’ Emmon said straight-faced. He could never understand how that man could be so unfazed by killing.

‘Let’s split, circle them,’ Renly suggested.

‘Good plan Renly,’ Guyard smirked.

It was Guyard that was spotted first. Renly saw the panic on his face as the large one strode towards him, taking aim, all his previous cockiness slipping away.

Renly closed his eyes as the blood spurted out of his shoulder, fearing a recurrence of his infamous fainting spells. Emmon walked out behind the other man, knocking him to the floor.

Renly had been watching him so intently, he’d forgotten the second Skaikru. He began to look for him, fearing what he would be forced to do if he found him but what may happen to his men if he did not. 

Then he saw him, the sunlight drifting from the trees and hitting his curls in such a way that he could not be mistaken. Renly’s breath was almost taken away as he looked at him – he looked so fragile. He couldn’t let this boy die, not to Emmon, not to Emmon’s hammer. 

He crept behind him, he was loud but these Skaikru seemed to hear nothing in the forest as if they were blind and deaf.

He silenced him with a hand over him mouth, the boy’s teeth nipping him slightly. He was stronger than he expected him to be, Renly having to use another hand around his waist to pull him back properly. As he stood with him this close, he could feel the muscle beneath his thin frame – he wasn’t as delicate as Renly had first thought.

‘Don’t scream,’ he was trying to be polite, but he felt the boy shudder beneath him, most likely from fear. He thought he was doing the boy a favour, thought he had saved him, but the boy was putting up more of a struggle than he’d anticipated. Renly had not thought this through all that well.

‘Let go of me,’ his voice was verging on a shout, Renly shushed him again, thankful for Emmon’s dull hearing, ‘let me go,’ he said again, although quieter. 

‘Don’t run,’ Renly released him gently, not realising how close the boy had gotten, under different circumstances Renly would have found himself embarrassed, well more embarrassed than I basically almost kidnapped you but it was to save your own life kind of way. 

Recognition dawned on the boy’s face once again, before it scrunched up into anger.

‘It’s you again,’ he was livid, ‘why do you keep saving me?!’ it was rushed, loud whisper. ‘I don’t need saving!’ Renly chuckled, the amount of anger that came out of someone so small was unbelievable. This boy dispelled thoughts of the fight and almost the war surrounding them. ‘Who are you?’

‘Just someone who does not like killing,’ Renly laughed

‘You gave me that answer last time,’ he sounded like a child about to throw a tantrum, ‘Tell me your name,’

‘I do not think this is the best place to talk’

‘Then why did you save me? Why not let your little friend kill me,’

 

‘Personally I would not call Emmon little, he was almost as big as your friend,’ 

‘You didn’t answer my question,’

‘Emmon is my friend yes, and a fierce warrior, loyal, but he is not the kindest, nor the strongest, it was take several blows from that hammer to kill a man,’ Renly winced thinking of the last man he saw Emmon kill, he hadn’t died from his crushed skull, he’d drowned in his own blood before then. That was the first fainting spell Renly had had in front of Emmon, after that he’d been sure to keep his vison well away from him during fights. ‘I wouldn’t wish that on anyone,’

‘You let Trant take it, how am I different from him?’

‘You didn’t shoot my friend,’

‘But I almost shot you,’

‘Yes almost,’ the boy looked livid at his response, rage seeping into his face, turning him red - he didn’t seem to like Renly outsmarting him, knowing more than him. ‘You should stay here until the fight is over, you will be safe,’

‘Why does no one believe that I can fight?! And I’m not scared of grounders, I could take you right now!’ Renly felt himself blush at the thought of being taken by him, he suspected that was not the intent behind his words. The blushed faded quickly however, as Renly laughed again, not just at the boy’s words, but at the ease he felt talking to this stranger. He was not scared of him, nor did he pity his need to know things, it felt natural to laugh not at, but with him. 

‘You will be safe here,’ Renly went to move, to leave, return to his men. 

However as he stepped from the shadows, another man, another one of them had a different plan. It was the one he’d seen the boy with earlier, a gash running down the side of his face that he could only assume was from Emmon; it was accompanied by a wicked grin. 

But what of Emmon was Renly’s thought, what of Guyard, were they dead? It hurt him to think his friends were dying while he joked with one of the Skaikru that were killing them, it hurt almost as much when a rock picked from the floor was smashed into the side of his head.

For Renly the world went black as he fell to the floor. For Loras, it went still, for some reason he could not bear to watch this man die, he’d won him over with some form of charisma.

Loras hated himself for it. 

‘Well done little flower,’ Trant said to him, breaking the silence, ‘this will make an easy kill,’

‘Wait we should take him back to the camp, he might speak English, we could get information,’ Loras rushed out.

‘Or we could kill him now and save ourselves the trouble,’ Trant smirked, pushing his gun to the side of his head. 

There was a large cut on his forehead causing blood to run down his face, sliding across his features and matting its way into his hair.

‘No, Meryn,’ it was Jaime, he had a few cuts and bruises but unfortunately seemed unharmed,   
‘Tyrell has a point, we take him the Chancellor, my father would love the hear if he has anything to say, if not, we’ve got ourselves a hostage,’

‘What if they don’t want a trade?’

‘Then we kill him anyway,’ Jaime laughed ‘c’mon Loras, let’s go,’ 

He watched The Mountain shoulder the grounder, he stuck closer to him than he ever had before, just in case the man woke up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it - if you did don't forget to leave kudos and maybe a cheeky comment ;)

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed that, kudos and comments are appreciated :))


End file.
